


The Reason is Everything

by simplesetgo



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Anal Sex, F/F, Rough Sex, Tribadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-23
Updated: 2011-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 16:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplesetgo/pseuds/simplesetgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Seeker Porn Battle, prompts: <i>conditioned behaviors, possessive, agiel, dom!Cara and sub!Kahlan, mutual understanding, strap-on, rada'han, clandestine, dirty talk, cave, they have to be quiet, rough sex while traveling, “Bend over”, hungry and horny after a battle, midnight snack, sex in the rain, sex on a horse, brothel, dry humping</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reason is Everything

The first time it happens, Kahlan is nervous. Skittish, even, as she approaches Cara in the middle of the night, interrupting her watch—and Cara knows why the moment Kahlan produces a thin circle of silver from behind her back. She holds it in her hand like it’s a shameful thing, like it might burn or bite her at any moment. Looking down, Kahlan thrusts the Rada’Han and key at Cara, wordlessly.

Cara is always one to take things in stride. A few hushed whispers, the token amount of hesitation from Kahlan, and Cara has her pinned to the nearest tree, gloved hand firmly between Kahlan’s legs. Kahlan keeps her eyes shut, keeps her body still and taut and Cara feels like she might as well be having sex with the tree they’re up against. She sighs, works her wrist; twists it, presses hard against Kahlan’s smallclothes where it makes Kahlan gasp a little, tilt her head back and expose her slender throat adorned with that piece of jewelry that’s so much more. The small, red jewel sitting at the front of it glitters brightly in moonlight.

When Kahlan comes her blue eyes fly wide, like she’s shocked and surprised at what her body is doing. Cara’s lips curl in amusement and she rubs idly at Kahlan’s cunt as Kahlan finishes with a whimper, confused and staring at Cara like she just revealed all the secrets of their world. “Oh,” Kahlan says, croaks, husks, and clears her throat. “Oh.”

Cara shrugs, unlocks the collar with a click, and places it in Kahlan’s trembling hand. She’s usually one to take things in stride so she doesn’t ask where Kahlan got it, why Kahlan came to her and not Richard, why tonight.

But before it’s over, before she sends Kahlan back to the camp with the others, she leans in, kisses Kahlan’s lips, and feels for the heat between her legs one last time. It’s there, still, that incredible warmth she can feel through Kahlan’s smallclothes and her leather glove. It’s amazing really, Cara thinks, that the Mother Confessor has a cunt at all. She’s entertained thoughts of her as being smooth, without womanhood. It was the only way to explain the ease of her commitment to complete and total chastity.

But Kahlan Amnell is very much a woman after all, and her breasts brush Cara’s own as Kahlan returns her kiss, timid and a little thankful. Then she steps away from Cara, to the side, and doesn’t look at her. “I thought I’d have to take all my clothes off,” she admits, and Cara is silent, just watching her. Kahlan swallows. “Do you want me to…”

“Go back to camp?” supplies Cara. “Yes. It’s not your watch. It’s mine.”

Kahlan nods quickly, visibly relieved, and departs, Rada’Han clutched tight in her fingers.

Cara watches her go and realizes she may have trouble taking this in stride.

****

The second time it happens, there’s a dry cave after a terrible thunderstorm, a ceiling filled with smoke, and loud snoring echoing against cold rock. Kahlan wakes Cara, hunched down beside her bedroll, and Cara is alert immediately, ready to take over watch. Then she spies the silver glittering in Kahlan’s hand, the way Kahlan’s lips are tightly pursed, the way her eyes are guilty.

“It’s time for your watch,” Kahlan whispers apologetically. “I just thought, before you took over…”

“You want a quick fuck?” says Cara, and Kahlan’s jaw tightens. But she nods.

“Please.” Kahlan bites her lip. “I can’t stop thinking about—”

Cara’s gloved hand over her mouth, her raised brow—they interrupt Kahlan, who nods silently. Then Cara’s sitting up, urging Kahlan onto her back, laying over her. Such a perfect place to be. Cara pulls a glove free with her teeth while Kahlan secures the Rada’Han around her own neck. This time Cara slips her hand inside Kahlan’s skirts, feels Kahlan’s too-warm skin and the dampness there. So much of it. “Your cunt is so wet,” Cara marvels, voice soft beside Kahlan’s ear. Kahlan blushes red, lets her eyes close and Cara feels her relax under her, feels her muscles loosen.

There’s still snoring, Zedd’s, and deep breathing, Richard’s, but when Kahlan looses a soft groan, thoughtless from Cara’s fingers working quick, Cara stops. “Quiet,” she hisses, and Kahlan’s eyes go wide. Cara shifts, sits up to straddle Kahlan’s hips, clamps her gloved hand over Kahlan’s mouth and slides the bare one down, down farther, twists it to reach into Kahlan.

Cara has barely slipped a finger into her cunt when Kahlan comes. Caught between disappointment and more amusement, Cara’s mouth twists as the Confessor moans into her hand, rolls her hips a little up into Cara’s. Cara pulls her hand away, watches Kahlan lick her lips, eyes half-closed, like she just tasted something delicious.

“Well,” Cara says, and stands all at once. She leaves Kahlan sprawled out on her own bedroll, going to lean against the cave’s entrance, eyes turned to darkness. She waits, waits, waits, and when she finally turns around, the Rada’Han is missing from Kahlan’s throat and her chest is rising and falling in sleep.

****

Their trysts continue in this manner; quick and secretive. Cara has taken control of things, as is her wont; she’s taken the Rada’Han and keeps it in her pack; she takes Kahlan when she wants to, now, not when Kahlan wants to be taken. An unspoken understanding, one that Cara slowly introduced as law. And one morning, a morning like any other when they’re all gathered around the breakfast campfire, Cara nudges Kahlan, nods at her pack where it sits open enough so that Kahlan, and only Kahlan, can see the silver gleaming inside. Kahlan smiles, bites enthusiastically into her bread, and is filled with nervous energy until Cara rises, announcing her intent to refill the waterskins.

The pair of them leave Richard and Zedd in favor of the thick forest. “What happened when you saw it just now?” asks Cara, nodding at the thin collar Kahlan wore proudly on her neck. “Tell me.”

“I got wet,” Kahlan tells her solemnly, shamelessly. “Really, really wet between my legs, because I knew what you would do to me there.”

Cara growls, shoves Kahlan against a tree—not for the first time, not for the last time. But this time, it’s Kahlan’s face pressed to the bark, not her back. “Bend over,” Cara says, and Kahlan does, shifting down the trunk and raising her ass for Cara. Cara lifts her skirts, tugs down her smallclothes, strokes the pale, soft skin of Kahlan’s ass. Then it’s three fingers in her cunt, up to her knuckles—made easy by the copious wetness that greeted her—and Kahlan howls, Kahlan bucks, Kahlan hisses and begins to move her hips as Cara fucks her. Cara squeezes Kahlan’s ass, a handful of her round cheek, so hard that Kahlan whimpers, so hard she’ll leave a bruise, and she drags out, slams in, drags out, slams in with her fingers, fucking Kahlan’s soaked cunt like she’s trying to hurt her. Because Kahlan lets her, Kahlan doesn’t care. Kahlan just likes being fucked.

It’s that fierce slapping sound, that rhythmic squish, squish, squish of Kahlan’s cunt swallowing her fingers over and over, Kahlan’s cunt clenching around her. Cara works herself up to panting, until her forearm burns with it. She brings her palm down across Kahlan’s ass, the loud smack of it swallowed by the forest. And again, harder, and again, harder yet, until Kahlan’s ass is blazing bright red. Then she squeezes again, hard as she can, grits her teeth, tries to fuck Kahlan into screaming: it starts with a low groan, works steadily up into a needy and exuberant moan, and Kahlan’s voice catches with every one of Cara’s thrusts. Kahlan finishes with a shout, cunt pulsing around Cara’s fingers. She’ll settle for a shout, Cara decides, and pulls out, drags her hand across Kahlan’s ass to dry it somewhat.

Gone are the days when Kahlan could come from being touched, could come from a finger slipping inside her sex. The Mother Confessor’s appetites are growing and changing and it’s a pleasure all Cara’s own to feed them.

****

They’re on their own for once when they’re attacked, a small army of banelings descending on them like annoying flies. Cara fights as fiercely as ever, but she keeps an eye on Kahlan. She’s become worried somewhat that something in Kahlan is changing too much, and this battle she watches Kahlan closely, watching to see if her skills as a warrior are suffering somehow. But Kahlan is wild and flawless, whirling through a path she’s cutting through half-dead flesh. If anything, Cara decides distantly as she drives an Agiel into someone’s eye socket, Kahlan is more deadly than ever.

The battle leaves a small field littered with corpses and a Mord-Sith and Confessor side by side, panting and sweaty, their blood still running hot. They share a glance, then a look, and that mutual understanding shifts a little. Their weapons fall to the ground and they collide, arms tight around shoulders and mouths crushed together. Cara pushes, shoves, and they stumble together, tongues licking at mouths and teeth: chaotic attempts at kisses while they make for Cara’s pack—so far away. But they reach it, collapse next to it, and Cara can’t find it in herself to care that Kahlan landed on top.

Clothing is stripped and a piece of jewelry adorned, and then their bodies are pressed, pressed tight and their sweat mingles to let their skin slide. Cara parts her legs—she’s let Kahlan pleasure her, before, but she was never this giving with herself—and Kahlan smiles in delight, smiles and Cara sees something darker in it that makes her blood boil with how much she wants this. Kahlan is the aggressor, now, laying over her, setting her sex to Cara’s, resting her weight there, grinding a little and Cara doesn’t waste any time: she seizes Kahlan by her sides, thumbs digging into the softness of her breasts where they hang heavy over Cara’s own. And Kahlan thrusts, arches her body up, slides down, thrusts up, and Cara’s clit sparks out her pleasure every time it touches Kahlan’s own, building, adding to her release until those sparks become a flame, become a blazing, roaring fire deep in her belly. Their sexes grinding, rubbing against each other, and Kahlan’s breasts are bouncing above her, now, she’s fucking Cara like a man would, now, quick and hard and staring down at her with her brow furrowed. And Cara comes all in a rush, pulls Kahlan down to her, forces her down and Kahlan rolls her hips, grinds down and shudders and follows her, pants hard against Cara’s neck while Cara chants out Kahlan’s name, hands gripping Kahlan’s sides like she’s trying to crush her ribs.

Kahlan is the first to speak, the first to sniff and sit up in the grass, looking over to where a few feet away there are stinking corpses laying still in death. “I’m hungry,” she says, and wipes her palms down her breasts, down her ribs and stomach, slicking away dirty sweat. “Are you hungry?”

Cara sits up, and grins halfway. “Starving.”

****

When Cara wakes to someone tugging on her leather, laces half undone already, they are not alone. There’s an open sky and a bright moon and Kahlan’s silhouette against it, delicate fingers cautious on Cara’s body. Cara sits up a bit; if she wasn’t so exhausted she would’ve woken earlier, she thinks, but then she notices that while Zedd’s form is visible and audible in its sleep, Richard is missing.

“He’s on watch,” Kahlan whispers, seeing her concern, “behind that rock over there.” She nods toward a great boulder at the edge of their clearing. Cara then looks down at herself and her state of half undress, and Kahlan shrugs. “I want you now,” she explains simply. “I’d have liked for you to wake with my tongue between your legs, but it’s too late for that.”

Cara blinks, and shrugs, and lays back down. She shimmies out of her leathers, but doesn’t do much else; she’s still exhausted and doesn’t really care whether Kahlan fucks her or not or how she does it if she does. Kahlan is adamant, urging her legs apart, settling her head between Cara’s thighs. Cara sighs out, the only encouragement she’ll offer, and only that because Kahlan’s tongue is warm and soft and virtuous and it’s licking into Cara’s cunt like it was made to be there. Kahlan has gotten good at this, somehow, and she teases, she switches tactics, she works Cara up until she’s clenching her teeth in an effort to keep up her appearance of nonchalance: Kahlan’s tongue buried deep, Kahlan’s tongue fucking into her, Kahlan’s tongue flicking against her clit, Kahlan’s tongue flat against her cunt in broad strokes just when she’s on the edge. Cara sighs in resignation, reaches down and seizes a handful of Kahlan’s soft hair, close to the scalp, and grinds her hips up into Kahlan’s mouth. Kahlan makes a pleased noise and sucks on Cara’s clit, sucks and flicks and that’s the end of it, Cara’s gone, a barely-quieted grunt leaving her throat.

Wordlessly, Kahlan places a final kiss to her flaming cunt and then crawls back to her own bedroll. Cara is experiencing a strange feeling as she works herself back into her leathers, and she realizes it’s confusion. She’s lost her handle on what’s going on, lost her control in this situation with Kahlan and their sex. She thinks for a moment, then decides it’s nothing to worry about and too enjoyable to risk stopping.

****

They’re caught in the rain, the two of them soaked to their skin, and Kahlan’s telling Cara that she can’t wait, that she needs her _now_ , and Cara shouts, “It’s pouring!” It’s a needless statement and her eyes are wide because clearly the Confessor has lost all reason.

But there’s a fire in Kahlan’s own eyes, burning so hot there Cara wonders if they’ll turn red. “Now,” Kahlan growls, and kisses Cara, takes her by the shoulders and really kisses her, so hard that Cara actually does forget it’s raining. There’s just Kahlan’s tongue in her mouth, the smack of Kahlan’s lips against hers, and Cara gives in, kisses her back, fists her hands in Kahlan’s hair and thrusts her tongue against Kahlan’s. They pull back, share a breath, the very same one, and then there’s the muddy ground and Cara’s on top of Kahlan on her back—Kahlan’s hair is going to be a complete mess, soaked in mud like this, but she doesn’t seem to care—and dirty hands are sliding into clothing, clutching, gripping, slipping, and finally rubbing, stroking. The rain pelts Cara’s back, raindrops hitting hard on her leathers, hitting loud in the puddles around them, and Kahlan sputters, blinks furiously as the wind blows heavy drops onto her face. She moans when Cara finds her opening, sinks fingers into the heat of her cunt and Cara is almost angry, for some reason. “You like this!” she shouts at Kahlan, and fucks into her hard, jams her thumb into Kahlan’s clit. “You’re a slut! You’re a filthy whore!” she yells, and Kahlan laughs wildly, grins like a woman in ecstasy.

“Fuck me!” she shouts up at Cara, above the sudden roar of wind, a crack of lightning and roll of thunder. “Harder, Cara! Fuck me!”

And Cara does, Cara fucks her fingers into Kahlan as deep as they’ll go, as hard as she can, over and over, and the hot stickiness of her arousal floods Cara’s hand. Kahlan’s body loves this, Kahlan loves this. The sky bursts open above them and what they saw before was just a prelude. Cara sees it in Kahlan’s eyes, the utter violence, the blackness deep inside them and she’s not sure if it’s a reflection of the storm or something else entirely. Lightning strikes again and again, close to them and neither of them flinch: Cara’s too busy chanting “slut” and “whore” into Kahlan’s ear and Kahlan is too busy moaning like she’s trying to drown out the booming thunder, too busy rolling her hips, fucking herself against Cara’s hand as hard as she’s being fucked. Rain is washing them clean, or trying to, pouring down on them and it goes on forever but it has to stop.

Kahlan might have come, she might not have, but the storm breaks all at once; the rain slows and stops in a span of heartbeats and moments later sunlight bursts through dark clouds, making Kahlan wince. Cara’s breathing harder than she is, still crouched over her, still protecting Kahlan from the storm, and she closes her eyes to catch her breath. “Kahlan,” she says, just, “Kahlan,” and Kahlan doesn’t say anything. Cara wipes Kahlan’s wet hair from her brow, wipes water from her face, and the smile on Kahlan’s face is unsure, shaky, as her blue eyes flick between Cara’s own.

“Cara,” she says softly, finally, and lifts her head to kiss her: something chaste and quick and it’s all the reassurance Cara needs.

****

There are only three horses for four people and Kahlan and Cara are “friendly” enough now to share, as Richard decided. Kahlan has the reins and it doesn’t take long for her to slink back well behind the others, in sight but out of earshot, and Cara doesn’t even wait for the coming request or invitation or command, whichever it would be. She slips one glove off, tucks it into her belt. The Rada’Han clicks shut on Kahlan’s neck; backwards so that it looks like any given decorative torc. The saddle is awkward with the two of them; Cara’s breasts are already crushed to Kahlan’s back so it’s not like it’s hard for her to slip her hand around Kahlan’s hips, start digging into folds of clothing. “I’m going to fuck your cunt,” Cara murmurs, setting her chin on Kahlan’s shoulder—as much to keep an eye on their companions as anything else. “Right here and now. And you’re going to like it, you insatiable slut.”

Kahlan leans back in the saddle against Cara to let her, turning her head to the side a little. “It’s your cunt, Cara,” she whispers back. “Between my legs. You can fuck it whenever you want because it’s yours.”

“The Mother Confessor’s cunt,” Cara says thoughtfully, and finds it: hot and wet, ready for her to slip fingers inside, “belongs to me.”

“Yes,” moans Kahlan, and the horse whinnies suddenly.

“Reins,” Cara warns, and Kahlan loosens her grip on them. Cara curls her fingers; ignores her clit, goes straight to the opening of Kahlan’s cunt and drives her two middle fingers inside. “I want you to look at Richard,” Cara tells her. “Stare at Richard while I fuck you. Right at his back, while he talks with Zedd. Do it.”

“I am,” Kahlan says, voice tight.

Cara grits her teeth, curves her hand and fucks into Kahlan like she’s trying to lift her off the saddle. “What are you thinking about?” she hisses, fingers dragging out, repeating that deep thrust.

“You,” groans Kahlan. “I’m looking at him but I can’t think of anything besides how good you feel inside me. I’m thinking of you, Cara.”

“Whore,” Cara purrs into Kahlan’s neck, and she brings her other hand to Kahlan’s face, holding two gloved fingers in front of her mouth. “Suck,” she says, and Kahlan promptly takes them between her lips, rolls her tongue around them and wets them. Cara smiles though Kahlan can’t see it, _because_ Kahlan can’t see it, because she’s fucked Kahlan’s cunt with two fingers from each hand before, stuffed her full, but she hasn’t done this. Kahlan won’t be expecting this. Cara continues fucking Kahlan’s cunt, steady thrusts that she knows are maddeningly slow, and her other hand works its way under Kahlan’s skirts at her back, slipping under until her gloved palm is cupping Kahlan’s ass. “Is your cunt all that belongs to me?” Cara says, and squeezes meaningfully. “What about this?”

“It’s yours,” Kahlan says, breath quick. “Everything is yours.”

“Such a slut to give me your ass,” Cara says, tilting her head to bite at Kahlan’s earlobe. “I’m going to fuck it, too, now. Sluts like that, and so will you.”

Kahlan doesn’t say anything, but she bucks her hips, granting permission with the way she rubs back against Cara’s body, needy and compliant. And Cara slides her middle finger down the cleft of Kahlan’s ass, crooks it, searches and feels through her glove for that tight opening. Kahlan grunts and she’s found it, and she curls her finger and pushes, pushes, and Cara can’t resist. “Such a tight little hole, Mother Confessor,” she teases, voice husky because she is getting far more aroused than she planned on.

Then her middle finger is knuckle deep and she leaves it there, knowing Kahlan feels uncomfortably full just with that. She leaves it there, fucks Kahlan’s cunt, teases her clit, bites at her neck. The shifting motion of the heavy, powerful beast underneath them and Cara uses it: uses it to time her thrusts. The two of them nearly fall out of the saddle when Richard glances back, but the Seeker is not the most observant man in the world and carries on his conversation with the Wizard, oblivious. Cara’s impatient; Cara’s bored; Cara pulls her finger slowly free, lines up the other one that Kahlan wet. And pushes. And pushes. Kahlan squirms; Kahlan grunts; Kahlan tilts her head back, lifts her ass up from the saddle, supporting herself with the stirrups and the strength of her thighs. And Cara’s fingers slide home into her ass and Kahlan sits on her hand, impaled and Cara nearly comes from the knowledge. Kahlan does come once Cara casually rubs at her clit, moments later, body shaking with the effort of remaining silent. Cara pulls her hand free of Kahlan’s cunt, but the other hand stays where it is.

****

There is nothing Cara hasn’t done with Kahlan, nothing they haven’t done together.

When they stay at a roadside brothel for the night because it’s the only place with beds for leagues, it’s Richard that blushes and no one else. Cara and Kahlan get a room together, of course. Kahlan immediately begins rooting into cabinets, looking for fun things, new things, finding interestingly-shaped things and bottles of things. But it’s Cara who finds what she’s looking for first: something very specific, made for a single purpose. They’re rare, even in a Mord-Sith temple, and to find one here is a stroke of luck. She holds it up to Kahlan: a harness, appearing like any other. “Do you know what fits here?”

Kahlan holds up a thick, fake cock, ribbed and jet-black, her expression a question. Cara smirks, and with her other hand, draws an Agiel. Kahlan’s mouth falls open.

Once it’s situated on Cara’s hips it stings her groin, right above her clit: just like she remembers. Agiels are long, when one considers the business end and the grip are two parts of the whole, and it juts out of Cara’s crotch so far that Kahlan can’t stop staring at it. “You know that won’t all fit in my cunt,” she says sadly, touching it with her fingertip, dragging down its length, not even hissing at the sparks of pain it’s causing her.

“I know,” says Cara. “On your knees. Open wide.”

Kahlan obeys, kneeling in front of the bed, and licks her lips in preparation when Cara steps to her. This might be a long night and Cara’s eager to get started: she sets the Agiel between Kahlan’s lips and thrusts forward into her mouth. Kahlan chokes; Kahlan gags; Kahlan’s hands come to Cara’s hips and _pull_ , not push. The Agiel screams in the wetness of her mouth: Kahlan is in pain, but it’s nothing she can’t handle. Not anymore.

Cara’s hands come to Kahlan’s head and she begins to rut into Kahlan’s mouth, fierce and unforgiving, as unyielding as the Agiel Cara’s trying to force down her throat. Kahlan retches; Cara gives her a moment. Kahlan breathes deep, smiles up at Cara, eyes watery, and opens her mouth. Cara slides back in, smooth and easy, enjoying the sight of it disappearing between Kahlan’s lips. “I can’t decide,” Cara says, “whether you’d be the most expensive whore here, or the cheapest.” She fucks into Kahlan’s mouth; Kahlan’s throat gives and her head tilts back. Cara pushes down, forces down until Kahlan’s taken it all, until her Agiel is buried completely in Kahlan’s mouth, half of it filling her throat, filling her with pain.

It’s nothing she can’t handle.

Not anymore.

Cara pulls back with her hips, slowly, the Agiel sliding free bit by bit. The bulge in Kahlan’s pale, slender throat lessens, disappears, and then Cara steps back, satisfied with the way the Agiel is shining; dripping. Kahlan coughs; her cheeks are red and her lips are red and she’s still wearing that devilish smile. She licks her lips, waiting for Cara’s order, waiting to hear the position Cara wants to fuck her in.

“On your back,” Cara says, after a small amount of thought. “Spread those legs wide for me like a good whore, Mother Confessor.”

She strokes the Agiel like it’s a cock, wraps her fist around it and feels the wetness of it: Kahlan’s saliva. Steps to the bed once Kahlan’s bounded onto it and spread her thighs at the edge, pulling her legs up, knees bent. Kahlan’s cunt is right there, wet from her want for this and nothing else, flushed a little dark. Cara prods the tip of the Agiel between her sex lips, nudges into her and Kahlan whines at the way she’s teasing.

If there’s anything in the world that’s beautiful to Cara, it’s the lines of dark pain, dark agony, that arc through Kahlan’s pale skin from the Agiel’s touch: forming patterns, veins, a shifting work of art.

Cara thrusts in, pushes in and the Agiel sinks deep into Kahlan’s cunt, as deep as it’ll go all at once. Kahlan moans and cries out; her thighs shake, her eyes squeeze shut and she whispers out, “More.”

“Slut,” Cara mutters, and begins to fuck her, fast and hard. Kahlan whimpers; Kahlan pulls her thighs back more, spreading herself as wide as she can. Cara drives her hips as fast as she wants to, no faster, not as fast as Kahlan needs.

It was a strange twist, how Kahlan could come from a single touch once again. But the touch was different: an Agiel to her clit and Kahlan would orgasm, like a switch thrown. So Cara ignores her clit. She fucks her harder yet, fucks Kahlan into a sweat, fucks her until she’s begging for something and doesn’t know what it is.

Cara pulls out, then, has Kahlan turn around, fucks her deep in her throat again: Cara wants the Agiel good and wet. Kahlan takes it all like the good slut she is, turns back around, gets on all fours and offers Cara her ass, shaking it a little, lifting it up in the air because she knows Cara won’t be able to resist. And Cara can’t. She climbs onto the bed behind Kahlan, gets a good grip on the cheeks of Kahlan’s ass, and positions the Agiel’s tip right where it belongs, right between them.

“The cheapest whore,” Cara decides, and fucks into Kahlan’s asshole, lets the tip sit inside her, lets the pain caress Kahlan’s body like a lover never could. Kahlan whines, protesting the stillness; she pushes back against Cara, rolls her hips a little. “Cara,” she moans, and Cara grins. This is her favorite part. Slowly, surely, she pushes in, forces her way in with her hips and Kahlan breathes heavy and loud and pants; Cara pulls her ass back onto it with her hands and Kahlan pushes; helps; it’s not long before the bulb slips into the puckered entrance, stretching to allow it to pass. It’s the wonder of the human body, one of many, many things Cara knew that Kahlan didn’t: the length of an Agiel cannot fit into anyone’s cunt, but other places are more receptive.

Kahlan is melting, down into the sheets, once Cara has it buried in her to the base: pressing her thighs to Kahlan’s ass. She’s a mess; Kahlan is arching, fingers clenching around nothing, dark hair fluttering with her breaths and Cara’s not even moving inside her.

And then she lays into her, rough and heartless and cruel and Kahlan screams, loves it and shows her appreciation with thrusts back against Cara, by chanting Cara’s name like it’s a prayer. “Fuck me,” she pants, “Cara, fuck me, Cara, I’m a good slut, Cara, fuck me…” And Cara does: she fucks Kahlan like she hates her, like she can’t stand the sight of her. She fucks Kahlan like she’s a disappointment, like she can’t stand what she’s become, like she wishes none of this had ever started and if she fucks Kahlan’s ass hard enough it will all come undone and everything will go back to normal.

Sweat is running down Kahlan’s skin, pooling in the small of her back, dampening her hair; Kahlan can’t talk anymore, she’s reduced to whimpers, grunts, the occasional moan. Her body shakes with the force of Cara’s thrusts; Cara’s muscles burn with the effort. Finally, Cara pulls her second Agiel, gives Kahlan that touch she can’t ask for: slides it against her cunt, against her clit, and Kahlan screams again, louder, as her orgasm hits her like a hammer, and they’re lucky such things are normal, here.

****

Cara is sitting idly on a stump, shorn flat across by some kind traveler who wanted a seat long ago. Or maybe the resulting log. Probably the wood from the log, Cara decides. When Kahlan approaches, eyes more hesitant than she’s seen in a long time, Cara sits back, and waits for it.

“What’s wrong?” asks Kahlan. “You’re different.”

“Nothing is wrong,” Cara lies, “and nothing is different.” Her eyes drift to the Rada’Han on Kahlan’s neck, and stay there.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Kahlan offers. She steps closer, standing right in front of Cara.

“No.”

“Then something’s wrong,” teases Kahlan. Cara’s legs are apart and Kahlan shifts to set her thighs on one of them; sits on Cara’s leg and begins to move her hips like she’s a dancer, dancing for her queen, her lord, her mistress. “I want to fuck you,” Kahlan says breathily, leaning forward, grinding her cunt down against Cara’s thigh. “And I want you to fuck me.”

Cara crosses her arms. “You can fuck yourself, if you wish.”

“It’s not the same,” Kahlan whines. “I’ve tried. I need you, Cara. I can’t come without you touching me. Without you.”

Cara knows the truth, knows where this path is headed. Soon, Kahlan won’t be able to come at all without the touch of an Agiel. It’s the fate of many pets in Mord-Sith temples.

She watches Kahlan hump her thigh, soon desperate, and doesn’t have the heart to stop her. Kahlan’s hands find Cara’s shoulders, hold on to her, and she rubs, rubs, grinds her cunt against Cara’s leather; Cara can feel the heat of it through the clothing between their skin. And Cara sits, still motionless, while Kahlan finds release, and afterward, when Kahlan nuzzles her head into Cara’s neck, her breath hot there to send tingles down Cara’s spine: she ignores them.

“You’re sulking,” Kahlan accuses, catching her breath. “What are you sulking about?”

“I am not sulking,” Cara mutters.

****

It’s a beautiful spot. The waterfall is hundreds of feet tall and they’re at the top of it, on the ridge of rock overlooking everything. The sun is setting and Kahlan should be squealing with excitement about the beautiful view, should be kissing Cara’s cheek, at most, as thanks for bringing her here, for showing her this.

Instead, Kahlan can’t take her eyes from Cara. Can’t take her eyes from the Rada’Han in Cara’s hand. She knows something is wrong: at least she’s not begging Cara to fuck her here. Cara might jump off.

As it is, she takes a deep breath. “Just because you don’t call me mistress doesn’t mean you’re not broken, Kahlan.”

Kahlan’s face contorts in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Your cunt gets wet at the sight of this thing,” Cara grits out, nodding down at the Rada’Han. “Every time. I know it does. And it shouldn’t.”

Kahlan’s brow furrows. She still doesn’t understand.

“You’ve changed too much!” shouts Cara. “I don’t want it. I thought this…I didn’t think it would be like this. You were perfect, Kahlan, beautiful and proud and full of everything I’m not and—” She turns away, and suddenly tears are stinging her eyes. “I didn’t know I was breaking you, I didn’t even think about it. But it’s done. The things you do for me when we fuck? Kahlan, those are things people only do once they’re broken.” A ragged exhale, a slow inhale, and she finishes: “In case you’re still in there somewhere, under everything that’s not supposed to be there, I have to do this.”

Her arm goes behind her, and with all her might she throws the Rada’Han out from the ridge. It sparkles in the setting sunlight all the way down, where it splashes into the middle of the very deep pool: lost in the mist at the base of the waterfall. She turns to Kahlan, who is staring at her, shocked.

“Kahlan,” she continues slowly, “if you still need me, truly need me, if it’s too much to stop all at once, we can still…lay together. But now you have the power to stop me. I can’t do anything to you that you don’t want me to. Place your hand around my throat if I go to far, even if I just offend you with my words.”

“Cara,” she whispers, and sits down, motions for Cara to join her and she does. “Oh, Cara. I’m not broken.”

She’s tearing up, Kahlan is, and Cara sets her jaw when she realizes her own are running down her cheeks. “Yes, you are,” she insists. “There’s no other explanation.”

Kahlan shakes her head emphatically. “There’s another very good reason for people to do things they normally wouldn’t. I would do anything for you, Cara, whether it’s in bed or on a battlefield or wherever. And it’s not because I’m broken. It’s because I love you. It’s not because you’re my mistress, it’s because you’re my lover.”

It’s Cara’s turn to be speechless. Kahlan takes her hand, and squeezes, and continues. “All the things I’ve done? I did for you because I knew you liked them. I like to see you happy, Cara.” She pauses and sighs, maybe frustrated, maybe gathering her thoughts—either way, Cara is stricken. “When I came to you with the Rada’Han, I just wanted to learn more about sex,” Kahlan begins, and a slow smile spreads across Cara’s face despite herself. Kahlan returns it, squeezes her hand again. “Yes, I know I couldn’t even say the word then,” she teases. “But you taught me things, Cara, things about myself and my body and even life that I didn’t know. That I’m better for knowing.”

Cara’s eyes narrow. “Like what?”

“The hardest thing I’ve ever done is learn to handle the pain of an Agiel,” Kahlan says softly. “That changed my perspective on a few things.”

Cara shakes her head. “You say you love me, but…how? When? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know how it happened or when it started, Cara. Love is something that doesn’t have an explanation. It just happens and we have to deal with it.”

Cara thinks for a moment. “If you’re not broken, why can’t you ever tell me no?”

Kahlan shrugs. “I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

“Like you’re broken.”

“Cara,” Kahlan says sharply. “I am not broken. I love you. Whatever I have to do to prove that, tell me.”

“Tell me something you hate about me. Tell me something you regret. Something you didn’t like.”

Kahlan answers quickly. “I don’t like things up my bottom. It feels nice sometimes but usually it’s uncomfortable and I’m sore for too long for it to be worth it.”

Cara nods and makes a mental note of that. “Something you regret?”

Kahlan thinks for a moment. “I’ll have you know that my breasts are very sensitive and it would’ve been nice if you’d spent more time with them instead of always diving straight between my legs.”

Cara nods again, and hesitates; looks away. “Something you hate. Not about sex, about me.”

“I hate that you can’t accept good things. I hate that about you and I wish I could change it.”

There’s heat behind Cara’s eyes; she’s going to cry again. “What we have,” Cara says, and sniffs. “It’s a good thing?”

“Yes,” Kahlan says solemnly. “Cara, I didn’t know you felt this way. I’ve been acting the way I thought you wanted me to act. I’m still here, the Kahlan you know, every bit of me. I swear it.”

Cara thinks she might break into countless pieces, all different shades of relief and something else far more intense she doesn’t have a name for. “One more thing,” Cara works out, chokes out. “Tell me what you think of this view.”

“I think it’s beyond beautiful,” Kahlan says, and kisses her cheek. “A view painted by the Spirits themselves, just for you and me.”

And Cara lays down on her back on warm rock, and she cries, and sobs, and feels that strange thing in her chest fill her up until there’s nothing else. Kahlan curls up beside her, wipes tears from her skin and gives her soft kisses, gentle kisses that Cara doesn’t deserve and they’re all the sweeter for it. Until…

“Whore,” Kahlan says suddenly, and there’s a smile on her face and her eyes are bright, playful.

Cara grins, shakily, and kisses her lips. “Slut,” she murmurs, right against Kahlan's mouth. Her fingers trace Kahlan’s face, down her jaw, stroking her slender throat.

“You threw it away,” Kahlan sighs, and Cara purses her lips.

“Somehow, I think we’ll be better off without it.”


End file.
